


Treasures are Discovered By Those That Pursue Them

by imagaypotatoe



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: <3, Alternate Universe - Dinosaurs, Character Profiles are somewhere in here, Credence loving how Graves' shirts are all white and often soaked, Dinosaurs, GRADENCE - Freeform, Gravebone, Graves having a sad background because he basically is married to that trope now, Journalist!Tina, Lambeosaurus, Low-Key Newt and Tina but more like friends, M/M, Maiasaura, Mid-Life Crisis Adventuring!Graves, Paleontologist!Newt, Sleeping awkwardly in tents, Slow Updates, There is no Johnny Depp thank god, Tina yelling at Newt a lot, i cant write hetero so yeah, lost world au, much homo, only homo, sorry fam, student!credence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagaypotatoe/pseuds/imagaypotatoe
Summary: Follow Newt Scamander, professor of paleontologist and field researcher for King's College in London, and his undergraduate student, Credence Barebone, a young man with a muddled, undivulged history, into the heart of Latin America, following a lead that supposedly holds the key the duo's dreams; real, live dinosaurs.Percival Graves needs an escape, and what better way than joining his old friend Scamander into untread territory. (Probably many more, but he'd promised Newt he would go.) Credence is an added bonus to the trip, one that becomes a situation rather quickly.Porpentina Goldstein quite literally did not ask to come, but did regardless, forced to join the trio in hopes of reporting the story of new discovery-of Newt's insanity. Sent against her will, she must navigate an island with three others, often having to get them back in line.The troop must survive, thanks to Newt's planning, for a while upon the isle, finding more than what they bargained for in the form of dinosaurs and one another.





	1. Boggling Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This started out as a trash post inspired by a moodboard, and has now become a cool new fic that I hope to continue for a while. <3
> 
> I'm on tumblr at @imagaypotatoe and have fan art and moodboards for the fic there, so check it out under #lostworldau
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy. (Also I promise it gets less terrible X,3 )

“You’re bloody crazy!”   
Newt glanced behind him and gave a wry smile. “I’m well aware.” He chirruped, dismissing the umpteenth naysayer. The dean of London’s King’s College pressed his lips flat and glowered, frustrated, at the giddy professor, clenching and unclenching his bony hands to ensure he did not choke his top natural science researcher. Despite the pain in the neck that Scamander could be, he truly provided a great amount of publicity for his endeavors in the world of paleontology. When the man was not off in Mongolian Plains, the Montana Badland, or the Jurassic Coast of England, he was at the college, teaching the occasional class and working with experts in the identification of fossils. With all of this in mind, the dean swallowed back an angered response and simply sighed. “Just don’t go killing yourself out there…”  
Without missing a beat, the charming Englishman pulled back his lips in a wide grin, showing off his teeth and waved kind-heartedly at the dean. “Will do sir!” By then, the head of the school was already making his way away, down the hall, wondering what the hell he was doing by letter his lead professor journey down to a remote island off the coast of South America just to look for dinosaurs.   
Newt simply continued to pack, constantly consulted a multitude of notebooks crammed in his pockets, pawing through notes and then shuffling through the messy bags surrounding him on all sides. While it was not as disorganized as he’d been on previous trips, it could be better. He’d need so much, photography kits, laboratory equipment to observe any biological samples as soon as possible, so many notebooks for cramming as much writing as physically possible. Documentation was key. If he could prove, could show the world, that dinosaurs still existed, somewhere, he could die happily. Even if he could not convince the world, if he could see these fantastic, ancient beasts, even for just a bit, Newt would never ask for anything else in the world. Scamander found himself unable to keep smiling, too giddy from excitement to do anything but imagine the undiscovered place he was headed to; the lost world of dinosaurs.

Credence had packed lighter than Newt, only a small case compared to Newt’s multiple trunks. Seeing Newt lugging around three trunks, a backpack, and a case had been semi-comical, but the young man had felt bad for not being able to help the professor earlier with his luggage. Newt had waved the issue off, but that did not keep Credence from wishing he’d helped earlier. Luckily, Newt had begun rambling about potential species finds the second they boarded the small aircraft, keeping Credence’s mind from the usual dreariness. Newt and his endless information of prehistoric giants often had that effect on him.   
“When I went to see the Mongolia find in ’23, the skull was a beauty. It was so sleek and predatory. Oh, I can just imagine the creature, a small therapod I believe, with a clawed digit so sharp that it could cut through thick hides of its prey. Velociraptor mongoliensis they’d called it the next year. Ah! How I’d love to see her in motion, alive, hunting, breathing…” Newt glanced outside as the plane’s propellers sputtered to life and shook the entire cabin. Credence grasped the armrest on his sides and attempted to maintain his calm despite his fear of flying. The professor smiled sympathetically and lifted his hand to the boy’s shoulder, giving it a soft pressure of reassurance. “How about you take your mind off the plane, and I’ll tell you more about the newly discovered Proceratosaurus we found in England…it’s a Tyrannosaur!” Credence’s demeanor perked and he looked shyly at Newt, nodding and watching the animated man describe his adventures in paleontology until they both drifted off to sleep somewhere over the Atlantic.

“DINOSAURS!?” Goldstein was, to say the least, upset with her assignment. “You’re sending me, your best reporter in the whole damned company, to follow some British researcher looking for DINOSAURS!?” She paced angrily behind her desk for a few moments as the head editor watched her with an unfazed gaze. Tine turned abruptly on her heel and pointed an accusing finger at the overweight man watching her with little pity or care. “This is for that piece I did! This is retaliation for me trying to expose the factories, is it not!?” It was, but of course the man would not admit it as so. Goldstein had snooped inside of a multitude of factories, learning about the harsh conditions, the child labor, the pain involved in daily work in the atrocious factories in New York, and of course published it without notifying the head editor. The Times had dealt with backlash before, but never had they dealt with an entire industry nipping at them, crying for Tina’s termination from the entire company. She needed to leave for a while, the company decided, to slip under the radar while the story of cruel factory conditions was once again swept under the rug.   
The only thing the gruff man replied to her outburst was “You will board the plane in six hours, you will stay with Scamander until he finished whatever the Hell he is doing, and you will report back to me next month. As he shuffled out of the room, lighting a cigarette and muttering some obscenities under his breath, Tina screeched at him and bashed her hand upon the table so hard it became sore. “A MONTH WITH A DINOSAUR MAN!? SUCH A WASTE OF MY TALENT!” He heard her, but had no more energy to deal with the angry woman, leaving her to mull over her “punishment” and get ready to leave for an unexpected, unwanted, trip to South America.

The rough landing aside, in which Credence had stopped breathing for what seemed like minutes, and had dug his nails into the seat’s upholstery so harshly that he left indents, the flight was rather uneventful, full of chatter by the two about their hopes for the trip, their favorite dinosaurids and a variety of other chit chat, including Credence’s excitement concerning camping (the college student had never had such an outdoor, woodsy experience, being a child of the city of London and all.) The time difference hit them hard upon their arrival to Costa Rica, finding themselves sleepy upon the 2pm arrival, despite the warm sun that bathed the land in a warm, healthy glow. They had a boat to catch later that day, and wasted no time in getting there.   
By the time the duo arrived at the docks, they had stripped off most of their suit, coats, vests, and robes all tossed into one of the trunks that they pushed on crude carts made of discarded wood planks and rubber tire pieces. The humidity and heat felt nice at first, but as they ambled through the coastal city, the weather had gotten to them. Hair clung damply to their foreheads, necks, and sweat beaded and dripped from their faces. Newt had even unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt in addition to rolling up his pant legs and shirt sleeves. Credence had withstood the heat a bit better, not needing to quite go to Newt’s extent and expose as much skin as socially acceptable, but rather undid the first two buttons on his shirt to allow for him to breathe better.   
It was easy to find their charter, for it was the only boat that appeared to be going out, all other docked ships looking abandoned for the time being. Newt introduced himself and Credence to the single crewman of the small vessel, grinning charismatically at the sailor and parceling out some Spanish phrases in his speech. “So, when are we departing? Have the others arrived?” Newt asked excitedly, cocking his head from side to side, as if anyone could hide on the miniscule vessel that would transport four of them to the island, not including the captain.   
“No, señor. Yo no sé dónde están tus amigos…” The Costa Rican replied, shrugging and glancing behind Newt, towards the dock, to see if anyone was coming.

 

“Dammit!” Graves cursed as he nearly kicked the door of the plane that had arrived horribly late. “Bad wind my ass, it’s called shitty flying you idiot.” He muttered at no one in particular, simply aggravated by the time crunch he was placed in due to the pilot’s inexperience with rougher weather. Graves had flown in worse weather, and had done it much better, so he had no sympathy whatsoever for the pansy captain that had taken at a snail’s pace through the storm from Texas to Costa Rica. The flight from New York to Texas had luckily been less hellacious, but still managed to be unpleasant, of course. As such was flying. 

He shoved past the smiling flight girls, returning their forced smiles with a sneer as he took long, purposeful steps towards the tarmac’s exit. He glanced at his pocket watch, pulling it from his breast pocket to look at the time for the sixth time in the past ten minutes. The damn boat would leave in half an hour. Half an hour to literally run to the docks. He slung the singular backpack over his shoulder and started to sprint, cursing about how “I’d better see a fucking dinosaur if I’m gonna work myself to death in this heat.” It’d barely been a few minutes outside the plane before he’d begun to feel sticky with sweat and sensed his shirt sticking to him, the material even more sheer than before. It earned him multiple gawks, mostly from women, but he could not care less. He’d had to catch that damn boat.

Tina already hated flying, and to fly for an assignment she was already dreading essentially made the trip that much worse. Unable to have slept for the entire day of travel, Goldstein arrived to Costa Rica in a sour mood, hoping for “Salamander”, or whatever his name was, to have hopefully realized how stupid this idea was so she could return to London and work on real stories. Other than her own spite, the flight had luckily been rather pleasant, smooth and comfortable, even with food that did not make her stomach churn disgustingly. Yet, all the niceties of the flight could not overpower the fact that she was going to be stuck with three men, Scamander, a student named Barebone, and some flaunting adventurer who had met up with Scamander years ago during a previous excavation. At least, that was what the small, provided manila envelope of information the Times gave her said. It took Tina a few minutes, waiting by the noisy tarmac of the crude aeroport, to realise that she had to walk to the docks, with no transportation in order for her. Knuckles white with anger, gripping her case, she gritted her teeth and stomped off in the direction of the dock as the afternoon sun beat down on her. “Dinosaurs…how dumb can you be…?”

 

Graves was unsure why he left his shirt on by the time he reached the dock, a few minutes before departure, for it was soaked and sheer, every piece of flesh underneath present. It would have been too much of a trouble to remove it he reasoned, but on another level, he enjoyed showing himself off to the passersby. Salt and pepper short strands of hair clung to his neck and forehead, dripping with sweat as his chest heaved with exertion. “Fucking made it!” He announced breathlessly to Newt and company as he braced his hands on his knees and smirked coyly at the professor. A heavy hand came up to rub some sweat and hair out of his eyes, and then rubbed the residue off on his shirt. At this point, he resigned to unbuttoning the whole of the shirt to at least attempt to dry his skin off. 

“Glad to hear it.” Newt replied, grinning, wishing Graves would simply get aboard so that they could depart. Credence stood behind the professor, a bit hunched as he observed Percival from afar, taken aback by the elder man’s allure, finding himself staring. “I see you’ve dragged a pupil, no?” Graves questioned, still panting as he jumped from the dock to the boat’s deck, sending the tiny vessel shaking and rocking harshly. Credence grasped the nearest structure with both his arms, earning a chuckle from Graves. Newt glanced behind him to Barebone, then shrugged playfully at Graves. “He did not object when I asked if he wanted to come…is that not a yes?” Percival simply shook his head, smirking wryly, and tossed his backpack to the deck before taking a seat, legs spread wide and shirt fully open, pulled back to reveal his heaving chest, wet and glistening in the falling sun. When Percy finally caught Credence’s stare, he winked back and gave the boy a smug smile, tossing his head back in a laugh when Credence reacted with wide eyes and a blossoming blush. “Don’t toy with my student too much, Graves…I need him for my research…” Newt hissed disingenuously at the adventurer, eyes darting between the two curiously. “Although you may get him when he is not busy studying dinosaur behavior…I suppose.” Scamander added in a low whisper, unsure of who heard him.

“Lovely…I’m stuck with you two asses for a month…” Tina grumbled, sitting as far as possible from the men, glaring judgmentally. Newt perked up and smiled wide at her, “Well, you will also be stuck with a couple hundred dinosaurs, if that makes it any better.” His eyes glittered in the sunlight, true excitement showing in his voice and his expression. “Come, come now, to Isla Sorna, my good sir!” The captain obliged, and the small company of four was on their way to the isle, a place unvisited for hundreds of years for myths of great lizard beasts. Newt’s heart pounded with excitement, adrenaline pumping through his body like a giddy 12 year old. Credence, sat neat the bow, watched the water run by, feeling the eyes of Graves upon him at times, and returning the favor at times, a game he did not know he was playing. Tina decided to indulge Newt, and allowed him to endlessly chatter on about dinosaurs, particularly carnivorous theropods, and despite her attempts, the reporter found herself deeply intrigued quickly. As the night neared, the day ended, their journey had just barely begun.


	2. Boat Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelin', Travelin' Travelin' on a boat~ 
> 
> Newt, Tina, Graves, and Barebone forget it can get cold in Latin America. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Reading and all I can hope is that you enjoy!  
> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe #lostworldau for more

It was South America, Costa Rica, during the early fall and late summer transition period; hot and humid as expected. The air heavy with heavy, heat welcoming and not too suffocating, but warm enough to create a tropical atmosphere that so perfectly fit the natural scenery of lush shrubbery and trees where ever one looked. Not to mention the constant scurrying of small lizards and chirruping of colorful, hopping birds that littered the flora. (Newt had stopped seemingly endlessly to watch a tiny reptile cross their path, maybe perform a few mating ritual push-ups for a nearby female, and then run off once again. It was hard to tell whether the lizard or Newt himself was the cuter of the two.) Regardless, both the animals and the visitors from London enjoyed the weather, able to walk around in thin pants and rolled up sleeves.  
At least, that was true on the mainland, where the boat had departed not a half hour ago. Upon the high seas, or even just a mile or so off shore, the group was regretting their lack of heavy clothing. Even Graves, who considered himself to be tough against cooler temperatures, had his arms around himself in attempt to keep warm as the wind whipped at his face and stole away the heat his body produced. Everyone seemed downright miserable about ten minutes into the two hour boat ride, everyone except the captain, who was prepared and simply pulled out a thick coat to put upon his shoulders as he navigated. Out of pity, the elder Tico had tossed Credence, the shuddering mess, a blanket he kept for extreme weather. The boy had immediately curled it around himself and weakly thanked the man in broken Spanish, teeth chattering. “G-G-Gra-Gracias….S-S-Señor…”  
Despite all starting the trip in various placed on the small fishing boat, they all migrated close together on the boat’s stern, trying to avoid the harsh spray that hit so hard it left slashing, red marks upon their skin. “What the hell, Scamander?” Graves had screamed at him about an hour into the ride, his skin taut with the cold, goosebumps prominent upon his light flesh. He had, in no mind, thought their trip would encounter such cool weather, and definitely had not been warned of such by Newt. The paleontologist to his right simply raised his brow and shrugged charismatically, cracking a forced grin, shaking harshly. “Antarctic currents sometimes make their way up North, I suppose…” Despite the pain the cold brought to Scamander, the biting wind nipping at his ears, his red cheeks, and his burning nose, his eyes still glistened with giddy excitement, willing to endure anything if it meant he would get to Isla Sorna to see the fabled creatures.  
Graves grit his teeth and shook his head, pressing his lips together and hissing in the wind. “Of course…” Between Newt and Percival, Credence, the lanky student, sat huddled, knees pulled up and pressed against his chest, back hunched to become as small as he could. The thin boy wanted to conserve as much body heat as possible by limiting the parts of him exposed to the chilly weather. Graves had been the first to offer his body as a barrier against the wind, rejecting any objections the kid had with a kindred grin. Newt had soon followed, not wanting his student to get hypothermia within the first couple hours of his month-long expedition, and of course feeling sorry for Credence. So they huddled, slowly shifting closer, touching, and together feeling every damned shake of the boat as it hopped over waves.   
Tina had, of course, refused to get close to them, at least for the first hour, enduring the cold alone, seated behind the captain’s, small, elevated deck to avoid the wind and spray as best as possible. Yet, the cold had bitten her to the bone nonetheless, equally unprepared for the uncharacteristically cold weather on the ocean, wearing nothing but a long skirt and long sleeve fitted shirt. Newt eventually goaded her into sitting beside him, though she refused the arm he offered to provide in an effort to help her warm up. He took it in earnest and politely gave the journalist her space, never one to force anything whatsoever unless it affected one’s safety.   
For an hour, they gathered on the boat’s stern, damp and cold, their faces red in the whipping wind and hair disheveled horribly after the two hour ride. Little had been said after they had gathered, the wind and waves too loud to even speak over without yelling so loudly one would be hoarse the next day. Rather, they all simply sat, shivered, and counted down the time until they arrived. The captain found himself smirking at the foreigner’s lack of preparedness a few times, though also pitying them. “Gringos…” He’d chuckled to himself at upon seeing them gather together like a small flock of penguins. 

The arrival marked something akin to a Godsend, at least according to their moving reaction. Newt had literally jumped off the bow as the boat approached a sandy beach that was headed up by a steep cliff face, his feet splashing in the watery sand, eyes brighter than ever and smile unending. The others were less exuberant, waiting until the navigator properly stopped at the isle, crudely letting the boat halt in the shallow water and dip into the sand. The lack of dock made it difficult for them to disembark, but such was the nature of an unexplored isle. Before the others could even make it off with the trunks, Newt was already running around the beach like a mouse being chased by an invisible feline, chattering excitedly, incomprehensibly. To say the least, the grown man was more excited than any child in London.  
The landing upon the mysterious, foggy isle had been coupled with a temperature rise, most likely a cause and effect situation at play. The landmass provided a protection from the wind, and also trapped heat, preventing the area from cooling. Credence, Graves, and Tina regained the sensation in their toes and fingers, wiggling the digits slowly to be sure they were functioning properly after being frozen for the past hour. Despite the warming weather, the rose did not depart from Credence’s cheeks, something that Graves noted, curious of the fact. The remaining trio was able to leap the boat’s small portside wall, landing loudly in the ankle-high water. They were then passed an assortment to trunks, mainly Newt’s, and sent on their way.   
“Adios senor!” The captain shouted at Scamander, having received his payment prior to leaving since Newt knew he would otherwise forget, and he did not want to upset his only ride. “Te veo en un mes, joven! No te mueres!” Cleverly, Newt had also bargained for the man to get the second half of his payment when they all returned back to the mainland, not wanting to be stranded. Newt only half-heard the Tico, and waved lazily back, flicking his wrist and shaking his arm weakly. “Si, si, si! Adios…” He was too busy following small, three-toed tracks to pay attention. Scamander waddled awkwardly along the beach, running around after shallow footprints as the other adventurers waded through the surprisingly warm water and unto the sandy shore.   
Graves loud steps created sandy craters, huffing as he felt the sand shift under his weight and inevitably slosh into his shoe. The fact that he was somehow carrying three of Scamander’s trunks, one upon his shoulder and the other two under his other arm, did not his balance as he nearly fell over. Behind Graves, who was at this point so wet that his shirt was obsolete in hiding any of his skin, the white cloth completely sheer and clinging to his skin, displaying his chest, belly, and back plainly, Credence fumbled with one of the trunks. The tall, but somewhat clumsy, boy carried the luggage with both hands underneath the heavy case, sloshing through the water haphazardly with shuffling steps. The last to disembark, and also the one tasked to carry the two remaining pieces Newt had left on the boat in his excitement, was Tina, who was ready to clock Mr. Scamander in the jaw for being so forgetful.   
The young woman took the weighty bags in her hands and quickly trudged to the shore, cursing under her breath and tossing the bags unto the beach line carelessly. She shouted at Newt, who was completely lost in thought as he mumbled to himself and pat his pockets in search of a pen and pencil to record the tracks in his notes. “MR. SCAMANDER! Mr. Scamander!” It took twice to get his attention. The professor looked up with a dumb expression, as if he forgot Tina was even here, which was partially true. The poor man was simply too excited, too eager, to think of much else but the reptilian marvels that awaited. “Pardon…er, Ms. Goldstein, I apologise for my, how do I say, boyish actions…” He breathed out after jogging back to the obviously irked woman, “You see, this is something I have been waiting years for and…I suppose…I’m just so very enthralled, excited, joyous!” Newt spread his arms wide and looked up, at the fading light in the sky, lighting the clouds in orange and purple. It looked like bliss. It almost made Tina forgive this clumsy, giddy man, but her soaked, squelching shoes and dragging skirt did not allow for such. He glanced back at her with glimmering, deep sea eyes and an innocent smile. Still no give from the journalist. “Look, Mr. Scamander…” She began, making sure he was listening by making eye contact (his eyes really did shimmer) as she spoke, “I understand your excitement and all, but we really must remain cautious and tactical, I mean, we are on an island supposedly filled with dinosaurs.”   
Newt arched his brow and pressed his lips together, eyes glancing towards the cliff face. He slowly began to nod, “Yes, yes, Ms. Goldstein, I understand your concerns, and they are very valid. I am taking extreme caution in all my planning, I, uh, simply became overwhelmed in the moment and will be sure to keep myself in check…My apologies.” A true, hopeful smile flashed his white teeth and he then trotted to pick up his own luggage without a word. Tina quirked an eyebrow at the odd man, shrugging to herself. “At least he is polite…” She mumbled under her breath, only to herself. Or so she thought. Graves huffed and shook his head to the side of her, making the woman jump in surprise. “Sure, polite as hell, but also crazy. But in a good way.” The man’s grey eyes flashed coyly and he readjusted the case upon his shoulders before following Newt up the beach, towards the low dunes. Tina huffed, frowning, before shaking her head quickly and stamping through the thick sand after Credence and Graves, who travelled side by side.   
“So…” Percival had begun just a few moments earlier, (Right after he had caught Credence with his spare shoulder when the boy had tripped upon a rock hidden in the water, bracing Credence with his muscular back and pushing him upright before he had the chance to face plant unto the beach.) “What is your story, er…?” The elder man realized he’d never asked for the student’s name, too preoccupied with the wind, and the adorable looks the kid gave him. “Credence…” The pale man replied, glancing down at his wet shoes as he stumbled in the sand, finally leaving the water, glad to be on land. “Credence Barebone…” Percival caught the boy’s dark eyes, loving how they illuminated in the wavering sunlight. “Credence…eh? Nice. Percival Graves, but just call me Percy, alright? Anyways, why you here, Credence? With Scamander of all people.” He chuckled and shook his head gently, water dripping from the loose strands of hair that stuck to his forehead and neck.  
“I met Mr. Scamander in my first year at King’s College…two years ago, I’m a third year now, and he taught me about paleontology. I simply took the class because I was interested a bit in the subject, but I had no true plan for what to study. I’d just gotten into school out of luck…I…” He trailed off, as if halting himself from going down a certain path. Percival glanced at him quizzically, brow quirked and lips pressed together as the boy made a face of obvious worry. “No matter…” Graves interjected, granting the boy a quick, subtle grin. “So I imagine you study paleontology for the most part now, no?” Credence, silently grateful for Grave’s thoughtful segue, nodded and mustered a smile. “Y-Yes, I do…After taking my first class with Mr. Scamander, I wanted to know more. And he was so helpful and kind, he never turned me away, never refused to help me…And I was so thankful, so I offered to help him with anything he needed, and started working under him. I’ve been on many trips with him to new finds, when school is not too busy, and I help a lot in his laboratory, examining fossils, cleaning them, and researching as much as I can about dinosaurs…It’s the best time I’ve had all my life…” The pure, innocent look in the boy’s face convinced Graves of the truth in his words, also making the man’s stomach flutter unexpectedly, which he swallowed and ignored. Must be the boat ride, he reasoned. Percival gave a quick breath through his nose, letting his eyes close and open in a longer period than usual, a light smile tugging at his lips, (He usually never smirked so damn much, but this kid was having an odd effect on him. Damn.) “Good to hear. I’m sure Newt appreciates the help, even though you’re probably enabling his obsession.” Graves shrugged and then laughed playfully, catching Credence’s gaze with his own. “I guess that also means you’re looking forward to whatever we find on this island.” Barebones nodded quickly, in short, fast jerks of his neck. “Very much so, Mr. Graves.” “Percy. Call me Percy.” The student flushed a bit, thinking Graves was looking away. He was not.  
“Now, we just only must climb this face, I see a carved out path…” Newt was squinting along the bottom of the beachline, where sand met steep dirt walls. “Ah yes,” He pointed a bit to his left and up the beach. “Right there, a small path starts there and it weaves up the cliff…see?” Only he saw, but he did not wait for a reply anyways. “Alright, c’mon…we’re just moments away from a world humans have never seen! Follow the three-toed track! Come, come, Credence we have been awaiting this for so long!” And so, they began trudging up the steep, cut out trail, where tiny footprints littered the ground like bird tracks, accompanied with larger ones, claw marks raking lines in the ground. Just as Newt’s head poked from the cliff’s flat top, a trumpet rang out, low, loud, majestic, and very, very near, and the man could not believe his eyes.   
“A…A dinosaur…”


	3. "What the hell is a Lambeosaurus..." -Percival Graves & Tina Goldstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find a dinosaur. Confusion and dinosaur fanboying ensues. It is endearing and nerdy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this work. =3 I appreciate any support I can get. <3  
> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe for all your Fantastic Beasts homo needs #lostworldau for more of this

Credence had only witnessed dinosaurs on paper, seen artist recreations thousands upon thousands of times, in textbooks, in art galleries, in media like science journals. He had only imagined the appearance of a dinosaur in the flesh, its mottled, rippling skin that hung off a broad skeleton. Perhaps the animal moved dumbly, slow and without much thought, moving its feet in short, shuffling motions as it grazed upon the shrub layer like a reptilian cow. Its eyes glassy and dark, seeing, but not truly absorbing the world around it. That was the consensus among experts at the time, that dinosaurs were nothing but something like obese lizards that could barely support themselves properly and moved like lackadaisical crocodiles. Professor Scamander was particularly well known for heavily disputing such ideas, arguing that dinosaurs were sharp witted, clever creatures that managed to survive on Earth longer than humans could ever imagine. “Creature, beasts, animals with abilities were do not grant them simply because we judge ourselves to be supreme. The intellect of these animals cannot be judged by the stones that are their only legacy.” Newt said again and again at all his seminars, classes, and conferences that Credence had attended, of course. The unorthodox thought that Newt possessed concerning the agility and beauty of dinosaurs was a romantic thought that few intellectuals entertained. Reptiles, which is what dinosaurs were only assumed to be, were poorly studied and often viewed as dumb for their non-mammalian behavior, and it nerved Newt to no end, that humans would be so ignorant of the possibilities encased in fossils. Now, face to face, Newt knew he was correct, knew that he had been correct all along, that these creatures were fantastically built and adapted, not stupid and lame like they’d been called out as.

The beast’s eye was but inches from Newt’s face, glancing at the grass blades that gave a tearing sound as the hadrosaur clamped its beak around the tasty vegetation and pulled with the strong muscles in its neck that rippled wondrously. Its iris was rounded, the colored sinews around the dark hole contracting, twitching, in constant realignment with the changing light. A surprisingly bright, mottled lime green iris stared back at Newt with a flick of its gaze, glimmering with an intellect that showed acknowledgement to the frozen teacher. A warm breath came from its nostrils, tickling Newt’s skin as the damp air hit his face and neck, and the man did nothing but blink, body halted, not even daring to breathe for fear of scaring the animal. Jaw moving in a cyclical manner, much like a cow would chew upon cud, the hadrosaur raised its head from the ground, thick neck stretching upwards, maybe twelve feet into the air. It shifted the weight upon its four legs, blinking back at Newt, its look still upon him, and trotted backwards a few steps, the ground shaking beneath its massive build. The creature’s skin rippled, just as Newt had imagined it might, tough hide stretching with the movement of its tall shoulders and the working of its joints. Four-toed feet, topped with dull claws that provided traction more than defense, were heavily scaled up to the creatures ankle, where a fifth digit hung upon the inner side of the dinosaur’s leg. Its toes stretched up to its heel, off the ground, as all dinosaurs walked only on their toes. Thick back legs propelled the animal away from the party of four, smaller, shorter front legs paving the way. A rigid, bulky tail swayed gently behind the hadrosaurs hips, about as long as the animal’s body, adding 10 feet to its already enormous skeleton. It gave a final bellow, a grunt through its crest, before disappearing into the dense jungle ahead.   
“T-That….that was a Lambeosaurus, Professor Scamander!” Credence had pushed his way past Graves and Tina, too enchanted by the fantastic beast that had graced them with its presence. Credence maintained his look of awe, eyes bright, glimmering despite the sun’s hiding behind the cloud coverage, jaw slack, and face flush with excitement. He ran his hands through his messy, dark hair as if to recall that he was actually there, that he was not dreaming. He laughed, a short outburst at first, glancing at nothing but the space in front of him as he took in what had just happened. “A Lambeosaurus!” Credence giggled like a giddy school child, never having had such emotion, and as such not knowing how to control it. His lips pulled taut and grin grew so wide it hurt his face but he could not stop. Water gathered in his eyes, pooling at the corners before dripping out in small rivulets, only occurring for a moment. The boy rubbed at his eyes and sniffed as his nose began to run, only a bit. The beauty of nature had overcome him, overwhelmed him. He’d never expected to be so emotional, so in love, with such a sight as a dinosaur. He scrambled up the cliff to watch the wagging tail thwack against the shrubs and leave his sight, drinking in the image as if he were a desert wanderer in a drying oasis.  
Newt grabbed his own face and tugged gently at his skin, swallowing and smacking his lips as he blinked back to the present. He still felt the Lambeosaurus’ thick breath upon him, wet and cooling, but pleasant in the sense that it had been from a dinosaur. He pushed himself up from the dip in the earth that was the path, joining Credence as the creature left, and then breathing rapidly in his excitement. “It…It was! Did you see…the hatchet shape on its head? The look in its eyes, oh its beautiful eyes!” Newt began blabbering, turning from Credence, to Tina and Graves, who were reacting less like a boy who had just met his hero and more like astonished adults. “Its snout, it was flat, just like the skulls we have found it was…Oh it was marvelous! Fantastic! Have you ever seen something so, so, enthralling!?” Newt had begun pacing upon the cliff’s edge, eyes darting from place to place as he continued to talk despite the fact that even Credence was unable to keep up with the rapid speech. At some point, he just laughed out loud and gave a small shout of joy.   
Tina kicked the trunks up the final stretch of the dirt path taken to their current location, grumbling as Newt had once again abandoned his luggage in his excitement. Yet, this time she felt just a bit less angry at the giddy man as she watched him erupt with a happiness she had never seen before in a grown man. It was endearing, yet only to a point. She cleared the air with a sharp, prominent clear of her throat, communicating without words the fact that Newt needed to control himself or she might take the liberties and push him back down to the beach. It worked, and Scamander gave her a sheepish look of embarrassment as he assisted her with the baggage, his face slowly turning red. Endearing, she repeated to herself so she would not smack the man as he cluzted around with the heavy trunks, dragging them in the dense grass, towards the tree line.   
Percival was the last to see the animal, stuck behind the blubbering paleontologists who made a mad dash to the top to see whatever had made the loud noise, apparently the ‘Lam…Lambeosaurus’ (he had difficulty with some of the more ridiculous names, truth be told) had trumpeted and allowed itself to be witnessed. He’d come up, head poking above the cliff’s floor, just as the animal had turned away, meaning that Percival mainly got a good look at the creature’s scaled thighs and tail more than anything, which was he was less than enthusiastic about. Why had Percival even come? To of course witness some of the most marvelous creatures to ever walk the Earth, but in all honesty, it was to simply escape society for a while. The drear of his work was bogging him down, the mundane desk job that paid the bills, but killed his spirit. Yes, he did have a side hobby in visiting Earth’s extreme locations, but he could only indulge himself for a week or two every year, and the grind, the wear and tear of New York City was killing him slowly. He needed to escape, and what better way can be offered of such than a trip to a remote, uninhabited, dinosaur-infested island off the coast of Costa Rica? That, and the fact that Newt had implored him to come along, if not for company then for the fact that Percival could work a tranquilizer gun in cases of danger. (Not a gun, oh lord no, Newt would rather be eaten than responsible for another creature’s death.)  
The dinosaurs were just an added bonus, an incentive somewhat. But Credence, well, the student was simply a surprise that Percival had no clue what to make of. He supposed all he could do was wait and see.   
Graves trudged up to the others, his boots working at the dirt as it came apart under his steps and demolished parts of the path. The dirt fell away, crumbling, and he dug his heels in as to stay put as he lifted the baggage up and out, cursing, once again, at the fact that Newt had no doubt brought his entire, damned laboratory with him. Everyone else had but a bulky backpack upon their shoulders, possible packing too light, but it was at least manageable to tout around. “Scamander, we really ought to find a place to stay for the evening…It’s getting dark, and I am not going to be happy if we are assaulted by anything with sharp teeth, especially in the dark.” Percival had gripped Newt’s shoulder, hard, pulling the eager man back to reality, trying not to make the mood grim, but also giving a reminder to the fact that they were on an island, alone, with predators that would easily rip their stomachs open and eat their entrails. (Oh lord what had they done)  
Credence and Scamander looked at each other, and then to Graves. Tina simply nodded and pointed at the most sensible man in the group, which was not saying much truth be told. “Please, I implore you to at least listen to your friend, Mr. Scamander, if you will ignore my words of caution…” She added under her breath, “which of course you already have…” Graves let go of Scamander, but gave him a sharp, serious look that revealed the man’s gruffer, less playful side. His dark eyes were piercing, and the slicked back look of his salt and pepper hair gave him an appearance of authority and intellect, which he did have. “I understand your excitement, but this is also an expedition that must be taken very, very seriously…” Graves’ eyes wavered from Newt to Credence, noting the boy’s shrunken appearance, back arched and eyes down as he bit his lip. An odd wave of regret, or pity maybe, washed over him, but was shrugged off. “I am not letting anyone get eaten by a velociraptor or whatever the hell is out here, alright? Now let’s be smart about this and pick a good, strategically safe location to lodge.” Percival slapped Newt on the back, sending the quieted paleontologist stumbling a bit, and then lifted three of the trunks upon his shoulders and under his slim, but musclar arms. His boots made squelching sounds in the mud as he trotted off in a direction, seemingly knowing where he was going. (He did not, but moving and looking was better than being sitting ducks.)  
Credence and Newt, humbled by the eldest in the group, reluctantly gathered themselves and picked up their fair share of baggage, each taking a heavy trunk. Of course though, this was all done after Newt had recorded their meeting with the Lambeosaurus, written down the animal’s estimated measurements, and drawn quick sketches of the dinosaur’s body and foot prints, also noting its gait lengths. He needed as much as possible for research. Newt even plucked a few of the grass blades that the Lambeosaurus had been feeding on, placing them carefully in the notebook. (He also nibbled on a blade himself, out of curiosity. It was not tasty, but he supposed a dinosaur, especially a hadrosaur, might have liked the raspy texture of the plant.)   
Rather than hover around Newt as he usually did, Credence found himself working to catch up with Percival instead, trodding through the thin layer of mud on the ground as quickly as he could, but still not reaching Graves. The tall, older man had a commanding tone now, less lackadaisical, less relaxed, but still kind and intelligent, and he had an aura that attracted Credence in an inexplicable way. His feet slipped and shuffled through the watery dirt to follow behind Graves, working hard to both maintain a fast pace and carry the trunk, which was given away by his panting and quiet, but present, grunts of exertion. Flecks of mud worked their way unto Credence’s pant legs, which he was not joyous about, but also knew there was little to do to avoid it. A few splashes even found their way unto the boy’s face, which Percival would later point out to his embarrassment.   
Halting suddenly in an open area, encircled with thick shrubs and grasses, Percival Graves let his arms relax as he dropped the trunks. They fell to the ground in a tumble, clattering, to which Newt grumbled at. He turned upon his heel and nodded to Credence, Newt, and Tina, whom had raised her brow expectantly, her look not one of interest, but one of annoyance in general. He found her lack of giddiness entertaining, but not as pleasant as the way that Credence delighted in talking of dinosaurs. (Why?)  
“This…looks like a suitable place for tonight…It would be nicer to be in the tree cover, but I am not going in there unless I have a couple of tranquilizer guns and more sleep. Preparedness is key. Now, what are the sleeping situations you designed, Scamander?” Graves nodded towards Newt, who glanced around and counted on his fingers quietly, stalling for time more anything before he sheepishly glanced around at the curious faces. “Well…I, uh, only packed one tent…I know I said I would provide sleeping arrangement and all, but, at least it is a large tent…no?” That was when Tina smacked the brightly haired paleontologist across the back of the head. 

Exhausted, ready for sleep in any form it may come in, they collapsed into their appropriate sleeping mats, wrapping themselves in the thin blankets provided. Graves had secured the canvas structure, and the other three had figured out where everyone would lay down. Tina had constructed a makeshift wall out of the trunks, stacking them so she would not have to constantly remind herself that she was sleeping in the same vicinity as three other men were. Newt had, and would never, hear the end of his poor planning. He’d known she was coming, and she knew that he knew. (Everyday there would be talk of it.) Credence had been put up between the two other men, something Graves argued for and backed up with the fact that Barebone “was the youngest and thus needs the most safety measures no matter what their form.” In all honesty, Graves just would have rather slept in proximity to Credence than Newt. Newt could not care less in the placement and simply wanted everyone to sleep, so that they would be ready to explore the next day, to search, to learn, to see. When Graves began snoring after a few minutes, before Tina and Credence had also dozed off, Credence had done nothing, actually finding the rhythmic sounds coming from the man’s throat oddly comforting, soothing. Tina had tossed a pillow at Percival’s face within minutes. “Ok, Ok…just…tell Credence ta poke me or whatever…just no throwing crap…” The boy never worked up the courage to do so, but felt he slept better with the low, rumbling noises. Maybe it was just the fact that Graves snored much like he imagined a dinosaur did, but maybe it was not…


	4. Percival Graves: Character Profile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More deets on Percival Graves and his past, and how it shapes his present. 
> 
> TW: Intense violence and graphic depictions of injuries inflicted by others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this series. Hope you enjoy. <3  
> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe (you won't be sorry for following me) #lostworldau (more of dinos and gays)

Percival Graves: The Intellectual Venturer

As an inheritor of a multimillion dollar account from his wealthy family, Graves had little to worry about financially when his parents passed in an automobile accident in 1909. Though devastated, Graves’ loss was accompanied by a flood of wealth and a new freedom. Rather than oppressed by the desires of his traditional parents, to marry a wealthy woman and work in a high ranking office position, Percival was allowed to live as he wanted. He began to indulge the ideas that had gnawed at him since youth, the taboo idea of men touching men that enchanted him in a way women never did and never would. All done in the shadows, since homosexuality was still condemned in society, Graves finally let loose his self among New York’s gay community. Despite all his interactions with others like him, the fact that he was gay would never touch the light of day and it was something constantly dodged. To reveal who he was, especially as one of the financially elite, would destroy his reputation and family name for years to come. He could not bring himself to such a state, even if it meant he had to keep in the shadows.   
In 1917, Graves met with Scamander’s elder brother, Theseus, during the First World War. His heart was stolen quickly by the soldier, and they maintained a rickety, mostly physical relationship for about a year and half. In late 1918, at the war’s, Percival reluctantly split ways with the man, but was then introduced to Newton Scamander, a young, entrepreneurial paleontologist studying at King’s College in London. Newt helped Percival make his way through some of the darker times in his life, recovering from the loss of Theseus poorly and often falling into ruts of depression. He did not work for two years, finding himself sleeping around carelessly until Newt intervened and gave Percival a harsh lecture. Despite how much it stung the both of them, they eventually were glad for Newt’s actions, and Percival showed his appreciation in the form of research grants that allowed for Newt to continue his work regardless of the college’s funding.   
In 1921, Percival began to search for a job to occupy himself with, and had found his way into criminal justice despite his bare background of a few classes in university. (Percival had majored in law with a minor in finance thanks to his parent’s push. It had not been his choice.) He worked his way up ranks in the New York Police Department, becoming a detective rather quickly, in 1924, mostly thanks to his physical prowess and his elite social status. He continued to work until five months before the excursion that Newt had invited him to, a trip that took place in late 1927 to early 1928. On October 2, 1927, Percival Graves was kidnapped and held by an unknown captor for 18 days while working on a case involving one of New York’s most notorious mafias. On October 20, at 3:27AM, Percival Graves was found, tossed on one of New York Harbor’s docks and left to bleed out.   
Upon intake at the nearest hospital, Percival was diagnosed with Hypovolemia (decreased blood volume, Hypothermia, Osteomyelitis (bone infection), and severe malnutrition. His body was covered in deep lacerations and multiple burns. Percival’s identification, clothing, and work equipment was not found on site and was never recovered, just as the captor was never found or convicted. Percival spent 2 weeks in the hospital, recovering physically within 6 weeks of the incident, but still mentally incapable of moving on. He was dismissed from the force with honors, but was also condemned to a desk job that only worsened his state. Percival Graves quit the NYPD on December 14, 1927, just a few weeks prior to his trip with Newt.   
Graves had agreed to join Scamander months before, knowing that he had nothing better to do in the holiday season anyways, and hoping that Newt would revive him from the rut he was digging his own grave in. It was only his luck that Newt brought along a beautiful, kindly boy that was too shy for his own good. While he felt attracted to the boy, he also did not want to treat the boy as a simple escape from his mental cage, holding himself back and attempting to reject any emotions towards the boy that manifested. Inevitably, his naysaying would stop working and he would confront the boy. It was all a matter of when, and if the boy would consent. Until then, the trip would be one to assist Newt in, a return for the time Newt had pushed Percival through the aftermath of Theseus. The dinosaurs were an interesting bonus, but not as much as Credence was. 

 

October 20, 1927. 5:28AM  
The pain was so constant, so severe, so normalized after living with it for days upon days, that the lashes of hurt that washed over his body were taken silently, but he still convulsed sickeningly each time something was moved wrong. He was never graced unconsciousness by his kidnappers, forced to see his degrading body as it was broken, beaten down. All around him were bright lights, loud voices, cold instruments, and the constant, throbbing pain that kept him from drifting off mentally, jolted back to the hell he was living in by every shift that aggravated something new. Only when a dull, metal tool was prodded into the infected bone of his left humerus, a festering wound that dug into his bicep and penetrated the softening bone, did he scream.   
6:34AM  
A clear liquid oozing disgustingly from the wound in his arm, stuffed with cotton and red with blood, pus mixed in, giving on a stench of infection and disinfectant simultaneously. The waves of pain and the smells caused his stomach to heave, and he had liberated small amounts of spit, mucus, and stomach acids into a plastic pail along his bedside. His throat now burned and his mouth tasted of bitter, sour filmy acids. The burns along his chest stung as always, in patterns of lines and warped circles. They had been caused by hot irons, slowly and deliberately. The skin seared still, blistered and festering due to lack of care. They would leave smooth, deformed shapes in his skin. His sliced up hands clenched and unclenched, teeth gritting as well, as a nurse applied an antibacterial ointment and some Vaseline-like paste on them. A hiss escaped him and his head lulled back, eyes clenching closed. Blood soaked the gauze around his hands once again.   
7:42AM  
All his wounds had been attended to, wrapped up in bandages that would need constant changings, and were already damp with blood and clear plasma fluids that his wounds secreted in an immune response. Food was brought to him in small, but constant quantities in order to provide his body with nutrients, but not too much at a time in fear of putting his system into shock. While his hunger was quelling and the morphine drip attached to his right cubital fossa, the crook of his elbow, was finally numbing some of the blinding pain, a chill still caused him to shake despite his attempts to prevent himself. Hypothermia left him frigid, his body working hard to work up to the correct temperature of 98.6F after having been so starved for so long. Multiple blankets were given to the patient, and Percival even got his own, small heater, coals burning quietly at his bedside, crackling in a comforting manner. Laying back, absorbing the heat he needed but could not provide himself, Percival saw himself for what seemed the first time; the true realization of his body’s mutilation becoming apparent. He looked for only a moment before gnashing his teeth and looking away with a jerk of his neck that sent a jolt of sharp pain down his spine.   
Slashes, jaggedly broken open skin in thin, long wounds, worked their way up his thighs, intermittent with dark bruises, purple, green, blue, and even an ill yellow. A single, thick gash lay across his left hip, a chunk of skin gone, lost to something that Graves himself could not even recall. It throbbed regardless of how many drugs were pumped into his system; a part of him lost, leaving a literal hole in his self. Scabs, reopened again and again, covered his knees, caused by constant kneeling upon a dirty, gravel covered flooring. The skin would later turn dark, the skin taut and healing for years to come. More scars, of course. Even if they had not killed him, the captors of Percival Graves had managed to leave mental and physical scars on him that he would never escape. The slow drag of a serrated knife, this occurrence he did remember, though wished he could forget, had left a thick, shallow slash along his upper neck, along his jaw, and up to his forehead. The infection would make the scar even more prominent, and the tight, discolored skin upon his face would draw attention for the rest of his life. He dragged his fingers along the thin dressings upon the wound, the one he was most ashamed of, and felt his throat close up as he began to sob for the first time since he had been found. “Why……….” He bellowed before doubling over in his bed to escape the looks of those around him.  
The scars remained, as scars do, providing reminders of the past regardless if they are wanted or not. They recall times of pain, times of turmoil, times of excitement and incidence. To Percival, they simply served as unwanted triggers to his mild PTSD. He had tried for a small amount of time to hide them with cosmetics, but it had become time consuming and petty, and he stopped almost as soon as he started. He had abandoned hiding with bandages, not wanting constant questioning, and thus went with simply exposing his unsightly scars to whomever wanted to see. It was not so bad when he went out, where only some mottling of skin on his knuckles and the small, but noticeable, slash on his face were apparent, but when he got home and was forced to see his own body, he tremored. To see the swells of skin from his burns, dotted along his chest, his ribs, and even along his upper belly, the bubbling skin on his left arm from the horrid infection that left his bicep and triceps seriously atrophied, the jagged lines of puffy scars along his thighs, his discolored and misshapen knees, and the divot in his hip; it drove him mad. It took much time for his to stop glaring at himself, to stop wishing himself dead, and to finally look at himself with less violent ideas. He still hated his body completely, especially since his belly had lost tone due to his inability to exercise, but he did have the luck of maintaining muscle tone in his upper body and legs. Yet still, they haunted him, having to know that he was marked by someone so badly that it would never be washed off, that he was used to send a message to him and to all, that he was nothing but a brandished tool. It left him sleepless, anxious, and depressed. He only wished that he would be able to find a soul to one day soothe the pain that reared its ugly head still, months after the trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggest anything down below. whatever. you can even tell me your fave dino.


	5. Compy Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt gets a Compy. Tina isn't very estatic about that.
> 
> Graves relives some nasty pasts. Credence is interested. Let the homo begin. >=3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and as usual, enjoy the hell outta it. Dinosaurs are great. Gay is great. Everything is great. <3  
> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe #lostworldau

Plagued with the unfortunate startling of a nightmare, Graves had shot up from his makeshift bed once during the night, at around 3AM he estimated in recalling the blurry image of his pocket watch. His clothing had been soaked, damp with sweat, his hair a tangled mess of loose locks that clung to his warm skin. Knuckles pale and tight clung to the sheets, body contorted in the thin, raspy sheets that covered his shaking body. The mark upon his face throbbed and he felt the headache wax and wane as he curled over, sitting upright, grasping his head and face with his hands. Deep breaths were taken in, rhythmic and practiced to ensure the lowering of his heart rate and the calming of his nerves. The pound of the gnarled skin began to recede as he blinked, and Graves allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark that swallowed him. He laid back, his back hitting the hard mat with an uncomfortable smack that sent a dull pain through his spine and caused a short, soft grunt to sound from his throat. Laid against the floor, he cocked his head, neck twisted harshly, tendons straining, and laid eyes upon the resting boy beside him.  
Credence had shifted little since Graves had fallen asleep, still laying upon his back, tilted just a tad towards Percival. The features of the young face were relaxed, soothed from the worry of life in the fantastical world that the mind created at night. Mussy, shoulder-length obsidian locks of hair brushed across his ears, with a few lost strands trailing across his nose and cheeks. Percival felt the urge to drag his finger along Credence’s pale skin, glowing in the moonlight, but resisted for obvious reasons, cursing at himself. He could not give into whatever was tugging at his gut. It would lead to nothing good for either of them. A short huff of breath came from Credence’s slightly parted lips, and the boy twitched in his sleep, brow furrowing in a micro expression before returning to its lax, beautiful state. Percival allowed himself to sinfully watch for a moment longer, then ripped his sight away, yanking the covers off his skin before it stuck to the wetness and turning around to face the tent’s edge. He forced himself to fall asleep, hoping nothing would step upon the tent and kill them all.

Newt was the first to wake, at the break of dawn, which was late, around maybe 6:30AM for the geographical location, due to the winter season, even if it was the tropics. A soft chirruping had alerted Newt, serving as a sort of natural alarm clock that only he listened to. The paleontologist had crept out of the tent on silent, sock-covered feet, slipping on a pair of boots once outside and venturing to inspect the sound. His hair sticking up in multiple places, flat in others, Newt was a morning wreck, but he knew whatever was outside would not judge him as he knew Tina was. Despite the mud, Scamander was quiet, almost silent in the unusually hushed morning air. He simply supposed the life on the island awaited daybreak to become fully active, or perhaps sounds gave away prey too easily to predators on the island. The man scrawled down some notes about the possible explanations before continuing to slowly find the source of the tiny chirps. Careful steps were taken to avoid puddles that would capture and steal his shoes, he had done it enough times to know now, and Newt was lucky enough to find a trail of tiny, bird-like footprints to follow to the sounds. Having to push through a couple feet of vegetation, Newt literally stumbled into the source of the sound, eyes widening with excitement and breath held in anticipation.  
Mottled green, with a back covered in brown-red coloration in messy stripes, the chicken-sized animals stood upon their longer, back legs and gave a sharp, crying sound. They hopped, tails bobbing and swaying as their tiny torsos lifted and fell in the air and mud, water splashing quietly. A few took hesitant steps towards Newt, heads cocking and bobbing with curiosity. Scamander crouched, slowly as to not scare them, in the shrubbery he found himself in, and the small reptilian creatures ventured closer, making peculiar, high-pitched noises that resembled those of a loud songbird. A particularly brave dinosaur hopped up to Newt’s knees, small arms clawing harmlessly at the air before jumping a couple of times in front of Newt and nipping at the paleontologists shoelaces.   
“Compsognathus…longipes…” He whispered endearingly, sticking out a hand to the creature simply to see what it would do. At first, the curious ‘Compy’ retreated, feet propelling it backwards in tiny leaps, but then it shuffled forwards, head rising and lifting as small, yellow eyes inspected Newt’s fingers, his palm, and the rest of him as well. Softly, the small snout pressed against Newt’s warm skin, tongue coming out to taste the flesh, and finally jaw opening to take a testing bite. Small, needle-like teeth were bared as its neck pulled back and small, beak-like maw opened to show off the pearly whites. Newt yanked his hand back and watched the small animal miss. That was not necessarily the kind of attention Newt had wanted, but it was interesting nonetheless.   
The group of about six Compsognathus huddled around Newt, keeping a distance of a few to ten feet depending on their perception of Scamander’s movements. Gracing him with their presence, the Compys explored Newt just as he did them, sniffing at his feet, his knees, and his pockets. One even pulled at a few pages of extra paper he had tucked in his pants, nibbling the sheet happily. Scamander named that odd animal “Papyrus” in respect to its unusual tastes. Only Papyrus joyfully chewed on paper bits, all others nipping at nearby plants or berries found on the dirt floor. Upon attempting to take back the paper from Papyrus, the Compy refused to let go and Newt was forced to tear off the part of page in the animal’s mouth, frowning at the trouble-maker. Papyrus took a liking to Newt. (Maybe because of the paper treat, or maybe because Papyrus seemed to stand out from the crowd, not involved in the main group that chittered and looked at one another often.) Regardless, Scamander found himself able to pet Papyrus as long as he (the animal had a prominent pubic bone that was characteristic of males), was occupied with something to gnaw on, whether it be paper, a pant leg, or the frond of a palm.   
Papyrus, upon Newt’s leaving to go back to the camp, hopped after Scamander, chirping adorably and constantly moving its head upon the thin neck that connected with its wide chest. The rib cage flexed with each breath, contracting quickly when a noise came from the Compy. Small arms flailed in the air, hanging uselessly from Papyrus’ miniature shoulders. While it had not been Newt’s intention to attract a small, carnivorous theropod to their campsite, he did just that. Papyrus trailing close behind, looking for more paper no doubt.

“What in the hell is that thing!?” Tina yelled, having awoke just a few minutes ago and very much not in the mood for the nonsense that Newt had pulled already. (It was too damned early for this, only 8AM for Lord’s sake.) She pointed furiously at the critter, who hopped circles around Newt and seemingly begged for food of some sort. Scamander swallowed and gave a guilty shrug, his nose turning red and brow upturned. “Erm…this is…Papyrus…” The professor, seemingly unworthy of his title at the moment in Tina’s eyes, explained poorly. Papyrus nipped at his shoelaces again and this time continued to gnash tiny teeth on the cloth. Newt hadn’t the heart to nudge him away and sighed as his lace started to come undone in the creature’s mouth.   
“You named it?!” Newt flinched and glanced from Papyrus to Tina. He knew he should not be affecting the surrounding environment like he was at the time, but the fact that a dinosaur was fond of him, and was even letting Newt to touch him, was an opportunity he could not pass up. “Mr….Mr. Scamander…we cannot keep that thing around…” Tina was at wit’s end and they had barely been together for 24 hours. She rubbed her face in her hands and groaned, explicative mixed in with a distressed sound. “You will be the death of me…” Tina breathed out rather quietly, hands clenching upon his cheeks.   
“No, no! I will not keep it around, I simply want to study it…for a few hours at least…you know…Maybe a few photos as well, but I can assure you that it will be gone before lunch…dinner.” Newt tried to reassure the obviously upset reporter, covering himself as quickly as possible, even providing parameters that he was sure he could maintain. Probably. He Hoped. (Tine hoped so as well for both the sake of Papyrus and Newt alike.)

Credence woke up rather uneventfully, woken by the shouting outside between Tina and Newt, and also the odd chirping sound that actually sounded pretty near. The sleepy student pushed himself up upon his hands, raising one to rub at his eyes as he yawned and arched his back in a simple stretch, back cracking loudly as the joints popped and allowed for relief. After running his hands through his hair a few times, shoving the silky strands back and out of his face, Credence leaned forwards and glanced to his left and right. An empty, messy bed that belonged to Newt lay to his right, rather uninteresting but expected. He knew Newt was an early riser, especially in this situation. (Credence was surprised Newt slept at all, but he supposed Graves helped ensure they sleep.) At his left, Percival laid out, one arm splayed so that it nearly was draped over Credence himself, bare. It was evident that at some point Graves had undone his shirt, since his chest was bare and for all to see (though only Credence saw it now). While the man was well-built, obviously strong and with a sculpted torso to show it (save for his slightly rounded belly), Percival’s muscle tone was not what had Credence staring.   
Darker, skin with a simultaneously natural and unnatural sheen, stood out against the light flesh of Graves’ upper body. Scars, so Credence believed. They were plenty, many, many more than Credence had seen on a single person. He knew they all had stories; all scars did, though they were usually unpleasant and painful. The thought made Credence look away, turning red in shame and embarrassment for staring at another man’s body without his knowing, and made worse by knowing he had seen something that most people did not share. Credence scrambled to stand, legs shaking after having been inactive for so long, and he stumbled out of the tent, barefoot into the mud, to greet Tina and Newt. His exit, which was rather clumsy and rushed, drew their attention, and even alerted Papyrus. The mud squished unpleasantly between his toes and he regretted his actions, blushing darkly at the events that were going on. “Er…Good Morning Ms. Goldstein…Mr.Scamander…and…a…a Compsognathus?....”   
Tina shook her head and made her way to Credence, who had the clueless, embarrassed look of a child upon his young face, taking him in her arm and leading him over to a drier patch of land where she would help him wash off his muddy feet and try to help explain what Newt had done. If she let Newt talk about it, he would never finish. Credence was still waking up, physically and mentally, and did not fight anything that Tina asked him to do. The only request he had was that he could see the tiny specimen that kept poking its head around a shrub to look at Gravebone.

He’d heard Credence wake up, and only opened his eyes when Credence fumbled with the tent’s opening to run out. It took a moment for the idea to hit him, that Credence had been disgusted by his disfiguration, and when it did, the damned thing knocked the wind from his lungs and made his blood roar in his ears. He threw back on a thin shirt, anything to hide the hideous marks, and gripped his hair tight with both hands, pulling as he grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. Graves clenched his jaw and murmured to himself quietly, “Damnit, damnit, damnit…” Starting to regret his choice in coming, but also knowing that this was a part of the problem that he needed to work through. The fact that he had seen Credence running from him directly did not help, and the image flashed in his memory again and again. What else would he expect? He was a mutilated, used being, nothing more than a broken mess that only appeared to be held together by a bravado mask and some bad humor. A headache was coming on and Graves convulsed for a frustrated moment, body making an arc as he hissed and whimpered in a suppressed voice as a wave of pain washed over him and left just as quickly. He laid back, alone in the tent, listening to Tina and Credence quietly converse about how they slept, about the new dinosaur Newt had no doubt found. Credence asked “Do you know much about Mr. Graves?”, to which she stated no, but also stated that if she learned anything about him from Newt, that she would tell the young boy. She did not ask why he was curious. The morning had been a whirlwind, and Graves anticipated that the rest of the day would most likely be just as bad. “Where the hell are those rifles…?” He muttered, resolving to get up after some time of self-hating and mulling, rising shakily and checking to make sure he was fully covered; none of those marks that everyone hated showing.


	6. Hiking In the Jungle Isn't That Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a jungle, there is Newt and Tina arguing, Graves and Credence bonding. Short because I was tired. Need to update this and reinvigorate it. <3 Would appreciate any love or comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as usual. Love ya all.  
> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe  
> #lostworldau

Slashing through vegetation crudely, the blade dull with age and rusted at the tip, Graves’ machete beat away entangling vines that crowded the side of the trail they trod upon. The flat metal often stuck in the thick plants, halting Percival’s trembling arm and forcing him to jerk his forearm downwards to slice through. Newt had cringed in the start, when Percival had attempted to push through the thicket without force, and simply ended up getting shallow, red lines upon his palms due to the miniature thorns that were present on the creepers. The paleontologist, who was also a devout lover of all living things, was not for the slicing of ‘innocent’ plants, but understood that if they wanted to continue, they had to resort to paving their own way. Percival, wearing his shirt unbuttoned from the middle of his chest up and the sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbow, had only hacked away for a few moments to clear the way, being sure to keep the others back and not endanger them with his powerful swings. While the heat bore down on the older man, making him pant and sweat heavily, dampening upon his back and forehead, he refused to expose any more of his skin. It was not out of being prude, he was anything but against such a thing, and was for his own desire to keep the past from tainting the present; to hide the marks. He had only told Newt that he had quit, not delving into details for his own pride, and would not fancy explaining his dilemma, his new issues to anyone, even if it was a good, trusted friend like Newt.   
Credence kept a quicker, though awkward, gait to keep up with Graves, finding himself halting suddenly to ensure he did not trot on Graves’ heels or bump into the man’s back. It would present and uncomfortable situation, or so Credence imagined it would. While the sounds all around the student beckoned a sea of thought, of ideas that ebbed and flowed with the tides and washed ashore new ideas, sweeping away old, he always found himself thinking of Percival, of the man’s twitching muscles as he walked, the way he held his frame, with an air of strength and innate leadership. It was alluring, though such terminology or ideal did not truly sit with Credence until sometime, and at the moment in which he was in, the underlying attraction he felt was not sexual or emotional, but carnal and nearly instinctual. The boy swallowed it, trying to keep the flush from his face and meekly stating that it was from the heat when Tina questioned him worryingly. 

\---

Newt had studied, Tina and Graves would say ‘played’, with the Compsognathus for about an hour after Graves had gagged at his own appearance (an almost morning routine occurrence sadly). The tiny creature had been held, pet, drawn, and photographed several times over by mainly Newt, but Credence had also cautiously pet the Compy, grinning like a fool as he did, an adorable fool. It always caught Graves’ eye when the boy smiled, since it seemed rather infrequent despite the joy he should be experiencing on the island. It was as if something was eating away at Credence constantly, and the way he avoided Graves’ eyes from time to time only emphasized the student’s underlying anxiety. Though, in Percival’s mind, he disputed whether Credence refused to meet eyes with Graves because he had seen the wicked marks upon his body, the convulsing slashes of abuse and weakness, or because Credence was unnerved for another reason unrelated to him. The boy seemed much more lax when with Tina, even though he had just met the woman, speaking with ease, no stammers, and though his smiles were still rare, they were at least directed at the woman. The boy had never smiled at Graves, at least not honestly. A pang jolted Percival’s stomach as he watched the trio interact, Tina on the sidelines, away from the dinosaur much like Graves, bickering once again with Newt and his apparently stupid ideas concerning the studying of…velociraptors, in the field. Credence watched the dinosaur hop around, feeding on small insects that crawled over the grasses, and Newt scribbled elaborate notes about the Compsognathus’ feeding habits. A minimal upturn of Credence’s lips denoted his joy in seeing the animal, but it was only directed at the Compy. The pain in his side was one alerting him of something akin to jealousy, which he growled to himself at and shoved away readily, even standing up to trot around and search for the rifles he’d brought, anything to cool his mind from the morning’s muddle that it was obviously still in.

He had found them in one of the packs, and armed himself with the Newt-approved weapons that shot only powerful tranquilizers. Percival hoped that none were needed today, or any day, but also would rather go out over prepared than unprepared. By the time the group joined back together, all having eaten something from their provisions, they’d set out, Newt leading the way with a thick map he had marked up in red ink. “So, today, I was planning on seeking out the Maiasaura nest…You see, they are herding animals, and, well, I have reason to believe that they are on this isle, their prints are in the mud all about, or at least I believe so…Anyways, if we find the herd, we may be able to set up a camp near their nesting area. They would provide a natural alert and distraction for any predators. So if we find them today, tomorrow we should make out way to the herd, for our own safety. Plus, imagine, living, actually living with Maiasaura! Being able to observe all their behaviors, their real behaviors, nothing derived from bone, all alive!” One of the rare, innocent smiles appeared on Credence’s face, causing his ears to perk as his lips pulled back and cheeks rounded perfectly. Even Tina had no arguments for Newt’s idea, for it was rather sound considering the fact that their choices were to stay on the Cliffside and hope no predators hunt the outer trails, or try and find a tree, which would be nearly impossible to do with all the equipment, let alone the fact that none of them could climb a tree well. The goal was clear, to find the Maiasaura, which Newt seemed ridiculously ecstatic about, and return to camp before dusk. 

\---

Newt passed Percival upon the panting man’s right, nose nearly pressed to the map he carried out like an unprepared tourist, which he was in a sense. The brightly haired paleontologist glanced at the ground, then at the trees, observing the scrapes upon some of the vegetation’s bark and taking awkward steps along the forest’s floor around the large, puddle footprints that paved a vague trail in the dense greenery. “It looks like some sort of hadrosaur has gone this way…” Scamander announced after they had been hiking for at least an hour, their necks and backs damp in the 83F and humid weather. The giddy adult rolled up the map and took wide steps to make his way along the dinosaur-trampled path, mumbling to himself audibly about something Percival could not hear. Credence still trotted behind Graves, only about 5 feet back, watching the floor as his thin, long legs made their way through the muddy ground. Tina was in front of the two of them, chasing after Scamander to make sure he did not lose them in his excitement. Their back and forth was entertaining to say the least. 

“Scamander! Hold up! You’re getting mud all over me!”

“Oh, um, my pardon, Ms. Goldstein, but, er, I think we are nearly there, the path is widening you see and that denotes that the migratory herd may be preparing to momentarily disband accordingly as to prevent a buildup and allow predators to target them at the moment you see it’s a very clever defense mechanism that the Mai-“

“Newt, please…no more…”

“But Maiasaura are really so lovely! So loving and such good mums, you know…”

“Mr. Scamander, your enthusiasm is truly applaudable, but you must recall that I have a job to do and would rather not get lost on this damned island because of your excitability…”  
“Oh, no, Ms. Goldstein of course not, I would never allow such a thing! I know that I may be a bit off at times but I really do mean to keep everyone safe. If you must dislike me for my, er, poor ability to socialize, then at least be comforted by my personal decree to keep you-er, all of you- safe. I have emergency supplies, flares and such, in case we need to leave the island early, but I truly think that I will be able to keep us safe…Pardon me, Ms. Goldstein, that was a bit, much…”

“Newt…It’s not that I don’t like you, I’m just…not used to…remote islands I suppose. It’s off-putting…”

“I completely understand, and have to say you are taking this much better than many others I know would have…Thank you for your company, it’s greatly appreciated, honestly.”

“Mr. Scamander…-Mr. Scamander! A snake, in the tree! Watch out!”

Newt gently pet the reptile, its tongue poking out. Tina feared he would get bit, screaming at the man to back away, but rather, Newt simply grinned. “Look, she’s harmless Tina…”

“Mr. Graves…” The voice had startled Percival, nearly having forgotten that Credence was walking behind him, though the boot’s clomping in the mud did keep reminding him. Percy stumbled forwards, having jumped a tad, pretending that he had tripped by dragging his foot in the mud. “…Er, yes, Credence?” They stopped walking for a moment, Credence pausing for Percival to regain his balance, and Percival stopped because of Credence. The boy’s dark eyes lifted to meet Percival’s, and the man could not help but nearly stare at the perfect features. Credence had looked away just moments after they locked gaze, seeming anxious, maybe embarrassed. “Why…Why are you here, Mr. Graves?” 

Credence asked not out of disrespect, but out of pure curiosity, out of a want to learn about this man. A desire to know had struck him, to know why Graves acted odd around him, why Graves was even here if he was not a journalist or paleontologist like Newt and him were. The man had said little since they first left, and the pull Credence felt towards him came with these burning questions. The look Graves gave in response to the question was more of being caught off-guard than anything, and while the question was justified, it was unexpected. 

“Me? Why I am here, why I came with Newt?” Graves repeated the question, clarifying, unsure if he had understood correctly. Credence had nodded, looking at the vegetation and ground, refusing to look back at Graves, knowing his face was flush. “I’ll tell you my story, if you give me yours, Credence…” Graves replied quickly, a small smirk upon his face that got Credence to look up to Percival’s enjoyment. “O-Ok…” The first smile Graves got from the boy was then, was one he’d never let go, never forget.


	7. Truer Colors of the Jungle and its Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Credence exchange words in the jungle, talk a bit about themselves, think about one another, all before Newt tries to talk with a herd of nesting dinosaurs. Oh dear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for keeping up with this fic! Hope you like this new section. Leave comments or kudos to show your love. ^w^ Reading what you think inspires me to continue with this fic, so it all helps. <3 No obligations tho, of course =P
> 
> @imagaypotatoe #lostworldau for fanart and other snippets (like a smut snippet I made for Graves and Credence ;3 )

A delicate balanced existed between emotional involvement and the need to stay alert, trying to listen to Credence as best he could, but also monitoring the world around him with an extremely honed skill of detection. Any rustle of leaves, shift of vegetation, could be the difference of life and death, something that had slipped his mind as he spoke to Credence, but could not afford to do simultaneously. He was playing a dangerous game, Percival, mixing business and pleasure in the sense that him letting his guard down because he was with Credence could lead to all their deaths. There was an unspoken danger that Newt downplayed for the sanity of his fellow travelers, but that Graves refused to put off as so frivolous. Thus, while Graves did listen with intent and honest curiosity, he could only reply with short nods and grunts of agreement, keeping to the boy’s side or in front to maintain the best field of vision he could. While the trail they were on was used mainly by herbivorous dinosaurs, at least that was Newt’s claim, there was no saying what predators the prey attracted. Percival kept ready to pull the rifle slung around his shoulders out at a moment’s notice, glancing between Credence and the jungle surrounding them, swallowing the party up. Tina and Newt spoke loudly up ahead, slowly fading from Graves sight through the thick vegetation, but it did not worry him. If anyone was to have the best luck in surviving an attack, it would be Newt.

“…I was in an orphanage…for, for a while…” Graves’ attention was caught and he sent a glance towards Credence, brow quirking curiously, a waver of sympathy and pity visible for a second. Credence caught it with appreciation and looked towards the mud he stepped into below. “But I was taken away from there when I was 17…I…I don’t know the details, but I ended up getting sent to King’s College, in London, free of charge…” Credence gave the short version of his backstory, not wanting to get into the grisly details with the man he’d just met, even if there already was a sense of innate trust that Percival had instilled in the boy already. “I don’t know why exactly they, the child protective organization that got me out, sent me to England…I’d lived in New York City all my life, but never really saw the city, so the move wasn’t that bad of a change for me. It was quite nice actually. I finally got to go out when I wanted, go to sleep soundly at night…” Credence watched where he walked, his feet slanting and legs stretching to trot in the toes of a large print, playfully hopping from footprint to footprint, hands out to his sides to help him maintain his balance as he moved somewhat clumsily. A splotch of mud splashed upon his cheek, cool and unnoticed until Percival reached over and swiped the dirt off with a soft drag of his thumb. The boy stopped short at the touch, choking on his own saliva and swallowing loudly. His boots sunk slowly into the mud, a bubble bursting beneath his feet and a nasty squelch of soggy land sounding quietly, weight shifting rapidly as he scrambled to resume his place beside Graves. The twinge of pink upon his cheeks was lost on Percival, the older man’s eyes scanning the surrounding brush rather than focusing on Credence, which Graves would have preferred in any other situation. 

“I-I met Mr. Scamander my first year, and well, I suppose we just got along. I was having a…a real hard time acclimating to everything…I’d never…never really socialized well, and…being in university…” His tongue felt dry, swollen, heavy, and he found himself falling over his own words, nervous, trying not to sound pitiful, pathetic, and fighting the old ideas that had been burned into his mind for so many painful years. 

“ Credence, you’re none of that. You’re a wonderful, kind young man. You have absolutely no reason whatsoever to treat yourself this way; you are so much better than this. I trust in your intellect, in your judgement, not because I pity you, but because I know your true potential! You simply must combat your past, and I want to offer my support for as long as you need it, Credence. It’s what a good professor does; teach their students.” 

Newt’s words, the short speech the man had given him the first time Credence had fumbled inside the man’s office, a sobbing, wet, bloody mess, self-inflicted wounds stretching up his forearm, fluids gushing and dampening, staining his collared shirt horribly. Barebone had declared his desires to perish, his wanting to fit in but inability to, the mental hurt that everyday brought, his ineptitude in life, his self-doubt, self-hate, all of it, divulging his life’s burdens to the professor one late night, bandaged up, soaking them red, and a trembling mess of coiled, shaky, thin limbs. While Scamander had been very thrown off by the boy’s cry for help, disguised as an admittance of failure in life, his personality prohibited him from ignoring the plea, and the paleontologist formed a relationship with his student that was both platonically intimate and professional. Newt would spend hours, daily, with Credence, teaching him alone, talking with him about his past, discussing Credence’s past, digging up a darkness in the boy that Newt almost refused to believe as truth it was so terrible. Newt had not only taught Credence everything he knew about dinosaurs, but had shown the man how to live, how to ignore the bite of the past, the tearing of his mind and heart, and to embrace life as it was presented, to live for himself, and himself alone. While it had been years since they had begun, the removal of Credence’s trauma was a long, tedious process that had surely shown improvement over the years, but not necessarily a full recovery. No one could truly recover from what the boy had survived, what he was still fighting against. The thin, pale lines upon his wrists throbbed dully as the memories surfaced, and were promptly quashed. 

Credence had been lost in thought for a while, keeping up the pace with Graves, but not speaking, or even looking it seemed, walking nearly mechanically. In respect for what the boy seemed to be working through, Graves stayed silent, treading through the trail slowly, pace falling to let the young student keep up. He should have kept pushing through the vegetation at a quicker pace, to catch up with Newt and Tina, who was simply running after him at the rate at which Newt was travelling, but instead he found himself creating a cadence adept with Credence’s, his eyes focusing less on every plant and sound around him, and more on the way Credence held himself, how the boy walked, spoke, breathed, how he existed. Something about the way that the boy conducted himself, sheepish, shy, and submissive naturally, was enticing to the old man. All of Percival’s past relationships, consisting of mostly one-night stands,… and Theseus, had forced him into the position of being beneath the other, physically and emotionally. The times he’d coaxed others into bed had not been kind to him, the man often finding himself pushed so hard it bordered on abuse, called such whorish names, and he did not know why he allowed himself to succumb, but he had. Regret would wash over him, leave a sour taste in his mouth, a soreness in his hips, legs, and abdomen, but he would do it again soon enough. The cycle was addictive, broken by Theseus for a short period, but Graves’ overexposure to deprecation had made him unsuitable for Theseus apparently; a truth Percival still struggled with. Seeing Credence, beautiful by his own standards, beyond such even, so wonderfully ready for taking, for claiming, was extremely enticing, a tempting proposition, but one Graves denied himself for fear of taking advantage of the boy and ruining Newt’s excursion. The man would never forgive himself if he found himself toying with anyone’s heart, though only thinking of Credence at the moment, and if he created an irreparable break between Newt’s student and himself…He’d have rather fought a carnivorous predator on the isle than face such humiliation. 

A short, loud clear of Graves’ throat brought both of them back to the present, no longer lingering in their own thoughts and now glancing at one another with curious expressions. Credence’s glance quickly fell down to the grasses he trod upon, back hunching slightly, a posture that Percival noted the boy preferred, one that he had seen among abuse victims he’d dealt with while still on the force, and though ideas boiled in Percival’s mind, he refused the aching questions that prodded him annoyingly and instead continued on the conversation the two were failing at carrying well. 

“You wanted to know why I’m here, Credence, and well, I’ll tell you, I barely know myself.” A short, almost sad, chuckle left Graves’ thick throat, low and deep. His eyes were kept forwards, taking long strides to be sure that they did not completely lose Newt, the only one who knew what on Earth was going on and where they were going. “I’d promised Newt a while ago I’d come…just to…explore, to live, to escape the city…Ya know I also come from New York, born and raised, and still there. The city is busy, loud, sometimes too much for anyone to handle for so long, and this is where I take up Newt’s offer. Oh, I’ve known him for years now, so we often correspond through the mail or the phone, just as old friends. I met Scamander after the War and we have just kept in contact ever since. I don’t necessarily care for dinosaurs the way he does, and you, Credence, but his sense of adventure and innate kindly nature are something admirable in the man. Just being around him makes the world seem like a better place, gives hope to experienced eyes. So, I’m just here to stimulate myself, to live my life freely and enjoy whatever is out here, and to enjoy Newt’s and your company.” A slick smile spread across Graves’ lips, thin and momentary, but something that made the boy’s heart skip a beat as he caught the look and memorized such a thing immediately, encapsulated by the sincere expression he received from someone other than Newt; a rarity. 

“Mr. Graves…you said you were a police officer, in New York. Is…is that why you have those scars on yo-” A piercing, thunderous trumpeting, emanating from a nearby source, rolled over Credence’s voice, causing both Graves and Barebone to freeze in their places, eyes darting around fearfully for whatever caused the ruckus. Graves had no clue what had bellowed, whether it was dangerous or not, and he frantically whispered to Credence, “What the fuck was that? Credence, c’mon. Will it kill us?” To which Credence thought for a moment, limbs shaking, and then shook his head, visibly calming as his fingers stopped trembling and the crouch he’d shrunk into inflated back until he was standing properly upright. Credence looked at Percival for a moment, seeing the man panicked, fearful, and ignorant to what Credence knew because he did not know dinosaurs as well, and gave a shy, but true, smile, wringing his bony hands together. “It’s okay, Mr. G-Graves.” Credence murmured softly, turning to look to where the sound had come from, another low trumpet echoing across the landscape. “It’s a Maiasaura, Mr. Scamander’s favorite.” 

Taking the lead now, Credence jogged towards the sound’s origin, pushing past the trees and branches until he emerged out into a clearing, where he spotted Newt and Tina squatting in a tall patch of dry grasses, only a few meters away from one of many nests that took up the land in the green clearing. A large, reptilian-like creature meandered dumbly along the edge of the nest, dropping what appeared to be stripped leaves and mud into a pile in the dirt nests which were hollowed out indentations in the ground, holding unseen eggs. Many, many dinosaurs littered the area, trotting slowly around, though most laying their belly atop the dirt mounds, sides inhibiting them from crushing the eggs beneath, thick, high tails swishing behind the bony hips. It was the Maiasaura nesting grounds, and even from afar, Credence could hear Newt’s not-so-quiet whispers of absolute glee, no doubt talking Tina’s ear off for what was most likely the umpteenth time today, but the woman gave the paleontologist a playful roll of the eyes and gently shoved him over into the bushes, smirking coyly as she saw the professor fall over in a graceless flail. It was endearing to watch the two.

Bursting from the jungle’s edge, Graves reached out and grasped Credence’s shoulder, panting heavily from running to follow the young man, leaning over himself tiredly and glancing from Credence to the dinosaurs. “So…these…these are th-the…er, Ma-Maya…Hell, what are they again?” Graves waved his hand, catching his breath, and gave up promptly in recalling the name of the cow-like creatures. “They’re Maiasaura, Mr. Graves…” A smile played along his face, finding Graves’ trouble with the name youthfully humorous, and reveling in the touch that the strong man granted him, the warmth from Graves’ palm burning into his shoulder pleasantly, leaning into the touch thankfully, though it was all subconscious as he did so. 

“So Scamander likes these things?” Graves breathed out, quirking his brow at the sight at hand; the herd of mottled green and yellow hadrosaurs with beaked snouts, a wrinkled neck, and a tall, unbalanced body with extremely high hips and tail. Credence nodded and giggled at the tone of disbelief Grave took, smiling wider than he had in what seemed like forever. Percival relished that look, and returned the joyful expression playfully. “Yes, Mr. Graves, he does…” Graves shook his head slowly. “Newt always had weird tastes…” Credence covered his grin with his hand shyly, glancing away as he laughed softly at Graves’ comments, feeling bad for doing so, but not stopping himself. 

“What dinosaur is your favorite, Credence?”

“…S-Spinosaurus”

“What the hell is that?”

Before Credence could explain with enthusiasm, even Graves wanting to listen to Credence’s happy ramblings about the dinosaur, Newt gave a call towards the Maiasaura that mimicked what they had heard earlier. At least a dozen heads swiveled their direction, and they gave honks in reply, standing from their nests and making shuffling motions towards the group of four. “Oh shit…” Graves growled, running his hand down his face in exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: @imagaypotatoe #lostworldau for fanart and other snippets (like a smut snippet I made for Graves and Credence ;3 )


End file.
